Queen Arwen stands in the grand shadow ballroom, that for once looks innocently beautiful as the light of a new day hits the room, making the chandelier's diamonds sparkle in every direction, rays of golden light creeping up the blue and grey walls making the whole room seem lighter and happier.

Smiling, Arwen watches the fireplace as the flames dance rhythmically and hiss like snakes. She has been coming to the ballroom more often lately, so that she could avoid Klaude as yesterday he had the audacity to kiss her. So naturally she slapped him across the face. Hard.

After that, Arwen has been feeling a little irritated at Klaude, no doubt he's kissed hundreds of Valostran girls. He probably thought Arwen has kissed many on the island but he is wrong. She had barely been allowed to have friends in Umbra much less romantic partners.

Arwen knows it is silly to think of their kiss so much at a time like this but she'd rather concentrate on that than think about the horrors that will eventually enter her life. Will she live or die? But instead she thinks about some stupid boy from a mainland kingdom nothing like Fennbirn at all.

It is a queendom here though it is a kingdom everywhere else beyond the island, various kings that rule the various territories of the mainland. With the loss of the mist that protected them after the deaths of Mirabella Mistbane and Queen Katharine the Undead the island had to repair ties with the mainland, create newer alliances. However, some kingdoms of course wanted to try their luck but they were foolish to try it during the early reign of a war queen, Halia.

None have dared come close to the island in years, not since Queen Halia taught Centra a lesson when they caused a fuss over trading deals. They're scared of the island and it's strange ways. How odd it must be on the mainland, Arwen thinks, no triplet queens, no Goddess and no gifts. Just foolish kings and promises of marriage. All the same politics, alliances and treachery but no gifts, no queens raised to slay each other.

Arwen hears noise suddenly and looks around to see that a few Umbra priestesses and nobles have come in, all of their rushing footsteps echoing off the marble blue floor and all of them retreat into the different corners of the large hall, like wolves ready to attack, all of them circling her like predators, sniffing out weaknesses and waiting for the prime opportunity to attack. 

To her disgust, she sees Klaude enter, his eyes burning into hers for a second before he completely looks away, ignoring her as he starts an intense conversation with Orpheus Raduron. Probably more about the alliances or whatever men like to talk about.

She turns back around, almost feeling angry at Klaude ignoring her but Arwen is confused about her emotions now more than ever; she wonders if her sisters have as many different emotions as she does or maybe they find it easy, with their only thoughts on seducing the suitors during the Disembarking, performing well during the Quickening and surviving their Ascension Year, where one of them will inevitably become queen of the island, the blood of the fallen sisters feeding the island.  She feels an icy hand on her shoulder and she turns around, already knowing who this icy hand belongs too and sees Cierra Raduron. 

"Arwen, we have business to attend too," she whispers in Arwen's ear, her voice sounding urgent and demanding as always. Her subtle way of communicating with Arwen has worked as nobody pays them much attention.

Arwen's forehead creases in confusion, uncomfortable with the warm sensation of Cierra's breath by her ear and she doesn't turn around as she asks,

"What business?"  Cierra turns Arwen around to face her and hugs her with a fake smile plastered onto her face. To anyone else it looks like the loving gesture of a mother but Arwen knows better, she knows Cierra. 

"Just come with me girl," she says, her silver hair tickling Arwen's face as she breaks away from Arwen, quickly walking from the room, still managing to make it look regal and graceful with her head held high.

Arwen quickly follows, ignoring Klaude's burning gaze on her along with quite a few other young shadow men, most are new to Umbra's court. Perhaps they are merchants, having risen up in their trade. Luck is not with them today as it appears Cierra has made up her mind about leaving. They will have to seek an audience another day.

Umbra is unique in the fact that it governs itself like a mini country but they have been so separated from the rest of Fennbirn for so long it is to be expected. And they are powerful despite not having many queens. It is like a court even more so due to Cierra's controlling attitude, no concerns go to the Black Council from Umbra without Cierra looking at it first. Arwen knows that Cierra is preparing herself, waiting for the day she is head of the black council.

One of the foolish merchants actually tries to get in Cierra's path as Arwen and her are walking out of the ballroom.

"Lady Raduron, Queen Arwen," he says, bowing. He is a small little man. Mousy brown hair and mud coloured eyes. He isn't from Umbra originally, he doesn't have the features or the intelligence to know not to ever get in Cierra's way. No shadow would have dared. And judging by the small robin on his shoulder that is clearly his familiar - he is a naturalist, thought not a particularly powerful one if his familiar is that small. Certainly not a Milone.

There are a good number of naturalists and elementals in Umbra, they are the only groups that Umbra let migrate. Only to better Umbra's independence by creating their own food trades etc. They rely on themselves rather than the rest of the island, giving them more power and control.

Everything in the ballroom seems to go quieter at the man's disturbance, the talking ceasing and the room tenses as if predicting how badly Cierra would react to it.

The silly man continues, "if I might have your attention for a moment"

Cierra's eyes scan over him with pure ice and the sharpness that a blade as it is about to carve into something. Arwen knows the feeling exactly, Cierra has stared at her in such a way before which makes the Raduron woman even more terrifying. The merchant sees the warning in her eyes and has the good sense to be frightened.

"A man, a measly naturalist merchant such as yourself dares to block my path when I am clearly leaving," Cierra says, letting out a cold laugh, "bold, too bold, not the type of boldness I can appreciate."

The man holds his hands up in defence almost to shield himself from Cierra's deathly stare and the black shadows that started manifesting at her palms. He takes a step back at that, his hands shaking a little which only makes Arwen feel sorry for him.

"I apologise profusely it is only as I was promised an audience with you to discuss commissions regarding a painting for Queen Arwen," he says, barely managing to get the words out as fear laces his every word. Arwen almost cringes at the foolish man, he should've stopped talking.

"I expected you here yesterday," Cierra says icily, small shadows starting to swirl making the man's eyes nearly bulge out of their sockets, "first you waste my time with your tardiness and then you delay my journey. You fool."

"Raduron cow," the man whispers as he is being told off, although not quietly enough. For Cierra's amplified hearing picks it up, same with Arwen. Another skill of powerful shadows. It is his mistake.

Before the man can react Cierra's veins start to go black and Arwen's eyes widen with anxiety as she knows what Cierra is doing. She's going to manipulate his senses somehow.

The hall is silent now. All eyes are on Cierra and the foolish merchant. A deathly silence that fills up the room, settling over everyone like an ominous void.

The man's eyes widen in fright, his expression of horror frozen like a painting, as his eyes go black for a moment then revert back to their normal colour. That is the only sign that Cierra has infiltrated his senses. It is unfortunate and foolish that this man didn't think to pick up nightshade before coming to Umbra Court so he would be protected against the shadow gift.

Many on the island do wear nightshade now, just in case as the knowledge of it passes down generations. No real use for it though, not in a political sense since most of the powerful families wear nightshade for protection, especially now that the shadows are back in the power game. Pele is clever like that, she spread the word of what the plant does and many chose to listen. It is accessible to them as well since it grows by the Black Cottage and the Breccia Domain.

"Cierra ..." Arwen protests but Cierra puts a hand up to silence her immediately.

"I didn't ask for your over emotional input Arwen," Cierra practically hissses, her eyes flashing with such anger that Arwen knows she will pay for trying to interfere. Cierra utters her words to Arwen ever so quietly so only the queen herself can hear. She can't have the court thinking Arwen is sympathetic, emotional and weak. Although that is exactly what Arwen is in Cierra's opinion.

Cierra only nods her head, a mere gesture to her guard who lets out a short yet effective blow to the man's windpipe, making him gasp and splutter for breath. It is painful but not that bad, he is just winded, he will surely recover in a few minutes.

"Pain," Cierra says and not a moment later the man goes from simply coughing a little bit to collapsing straight to the floor, clutching his throat like he is dying.

Arwen knows exactly what Cierra is doing. Heightening his pain. A particular favourite trick of hers that she uses to punish people. Arwen knows from experience but it's better now since Arwen has learnt how to lessen/heighten pain as well.

He starts shaking uncontrollably, practically scratching at his throat. It is a very disturbing sound because of his strangled screams that come out between his fast breaths and the peculiar sounds of distress.

It makes Arwen cringe while the others in the room watch with fear but some with wicked smiles. It has been a while since they've had a demonstration of Raduron power.

Arwen is a little relieved. It could've been worse. Much worse. She's seen Cierra make someone believe they'd been stabbed when they had only cut themselves but the crime was worse in that instance. Cierra must be doing this to make a public example, to reinstate the fear in everyone for those who get too comfortable in Umbra's court. To remind everyone the undiluted power of the Raduron line.

The man's brown eyes turn black again for a minute before reverting back to their original colour and his expression goes from blank to contorting in pain as he drops to his knees, grasping at his throat for a moment before he lets go, blinking in confusion as the pained expression leaves his face.

"Take him to the infirmary," Cierra commands one of her personal bodyguards who obeys her instantly. Even though the man doesn't need any real treatment they will let him rest for a moment anyway.

She then looks out to the rest of the people in the room,

"Court is over today, disperse or join us for Arwen's demonstration later on," Cierra says and everyone obeys immediately, looking at her in both awe and fear. The mumblings of voices continue as everyone starts discussing what Arwen's demonstration could be. As soon as their queen's name is mentioned they fixate.

"What demonstration Cierra?" Arwen hisses, growing more anxious and angry by the second.

Cierra stays silent as she grabs Arwen's arm yet again, her nails digging into her arm as they often do and they start walking.

Arwen struggles to keep up with Cierra's fast pace but they finally reach a door and Cierra pushes it open to reveal the secret back gate to the Mansion. 

Confused, Arwen stops, hesitating and which gets her rewarded by a hard shove by Cierra so reluctantly, she steps out of the back door onto the cobble stone path, looking around in puzzlement.

She looks up and spots a gleaming, polished ebony black carriage that has Cierra's personal black Arabian horses tied to the front, ready to transport someone of high rank, which is obvious due to the mark on the side of the carriage, the symbol of a shadow and a queen. Even with the queen symbol Arwen is not sure if it is meant for her or Cierra, as Cierra considers herself a queen, she just lacks the throne.

Arwen hesitates again as she steps towards the carriage but Cierra scowls at her and ushers her over to the carriage. As she approaches, a doorman bows and then opens the door for Arwen to step in first and then Cierra second, much to the old shadow's annoyance.

Not many on the island have so many servants but not many on the island are as rich as Cierra. It is silly, they do not need this amount of servants but rich shadows love their archaic traditions.

All in Umbra pay taxes to the Raduron family anyway and they have done for centuries; in turn they rule over the shadow city, providing protection due to their strength and order. Umbra has essentially been another queendom for generations due to the lack of shadow queens but now it is time to rejoin the rest of the island. Arwen knows that is Cierra's true goal, ruling a city isn't enough for the power driven witch, she wants to rule all of Fennbirn with Arwen a queen only in name. They might as well start calling her Arwen the Puppet Queen.

The carriage door then shuts and an extreme feeling of claustrophobia overtakes Arwen, who feels like she's caught in one of Cierra's hunting traps. Instantly, she wishes that she were riding her beautiful dark chocolate brown horse, Eli, free and not confined by anything or anyone.

The carriage then abruptly starts moving and Arwen glances up at Cierra, searching for any inkling of emotion on her face - she found none. 

Instead Arwen listens to the steady hooves of the horses pounding on the stone path and the sound of the wheels of the carriage turning.  Arwen lets her head rest and her eyes close for just a minute but before she knows it, she falls into the peaceful abyss of sleep. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Arwen first hears Cierra's voice as she wakes up, her eyes blinking furiously as they try to adjust to her new surroundings. 

Her eyes barely have time to adjust before Cierra forcefully yanks her from where she is sitting and almost pushes her out of the carriage; she would've fallen but the young white haired footman catcher. Before she gets to thank him she is already being yanked again by Cierra

She takes in her surroundings before she sighs, she knows where they are. They are in Lacton Square. A nasty place, where my punishments happen for unfortunates, usually with seats for all the bloodthirsty to witness.

It's a simple place, nothing that is particularly interesting about it apart from the morbid atmosphere. It's not a particularly active or rich part of Umbra, it only has a few small houses stand around. Normally there would be a few merchants around but not today. Today there is only a small crowd around the main raised platform normally used for executions.

She sees the small crowd of shadows, eloquently dressed in a boring shade of grey yet the finery of their clothes indicates some form of wealth. She hears their chatter and mumbling. It sounds like excitement.

A sense of dread soon settles upon Arwen and she gulps. In Umbra that dark dismal shade of grey is only worn on certain occasions - executions.

Shaking her head Arwen spins around to face Cierra who only glares at her with a stony expression. The Raduron woman is wearing an over extravagant dark grey dress which dark jewels sewn into the bodice but not even Cierra can make it look appealing. But Arwen curses herself for her foolishness. Why didn't she notice the colour before?

Before Arwen has a chance to speak Cierra puts a finger over her lips, shaking her head.

"Do not make a scene Arwen," she whispers and Arwen feels a drop of fear, for the the warning that lurks in the undertones of her voice.

Before she can ask anything or even protest Arwen is being pulled forward by Cierra.

"You are to stand on the pedestal and follow my every instruction," Cierra says, "and remember you are the shadow queen, it is nearly the Ascension. You must not appear weak in any shape or form. You are a queen, one of shadow and bone, the Goddess' vessel. For once act like it and don't be the sensitive fool that you usually are."

Then she is shoved forward and Arwen obeys Cierra's command. She knows from experience that is better than disobeying. And before she knows it her feet are moving her forward.

As she moves she feels each and every one of their sharp glazes settle upon her. Mouthes curl up in amusements, eyebrows raise as they behold her. Their great powerful shadow queen, who looks terrified.

Trying to swallow down her fear Arwen turns her expression stone cold, to try and imitate Cierra and soon her expression of weakness of forgotten as she now stands on the raised platform, a queen overlooking her subjects.

Cierra appears next to her after a moment and she nods at her guard who disappears into the small crowd only to return moments later, hauling something large that Arwen cannot quite see properly. That's when the shouting murmurings grow louder as the guard moves, holding a man Arwen now notes. Or what used to be a man.

The people's eyes aren't on her anymore, they are on the man who is dragged in chains as the guard lifts him onto the other side of the platform where Arwen and Cierra stand. The crowd only stare at him with utter disgust and simmering hatred.

Arwen turns her attention to the prisoner once again. A young man, who is battered and bloody, dressed only in torn rags. His hair is dark brown and matted with both fresh and dried blood and his eyes are a dark hazel, although one of them is bruised underneath. His wrists are in shackles and his lip is cut. He looks horrible and Arwen instantly feels sympathy towards him. 

Arwen swallows anxiously as she continues to study him, this man has obviously taken a beating and some more. She watches as his eyes frantically dart around the room until they settle on her. Ebony used to say that the eyes were the windows to the soul and Arwen sees the clear message in this man's eyes and when he mouths two words.  Help me.  Cierra then clears her throat, breaking Arwen's trance.

"This man is a giftless resident from Tenebris Avenue, he is found guilty of both murder and thievery." Cierra states, moving closer to Arwen's ear, "he was caught trying to steal jewels from the treasury trove. However, the fool was caught by the guards and he managed to kill two of them in a frenzy with his own weapon. Some of the crowd were related or friends of those guards. Some have come simply to watch how you deal with him. They're thirsty for blood regardless."

Arwen nods at the information, processing everything, she knows what Cierra expects her to do

"Please," the battered man suddenly cries out and it makes the crowd jeer at him more as they call him all sorts of insults but the man ignores as he pleads with Arwen, "Please Your Majesty I was only trying to steal them for my family. My crops have been failing. I was trying to give them a better life."

"Enough," Cierra hisses at the man and he grows silent but he soon begins making sound as he sobs but it doesn't gain anyone's sympathy. Apart from Arwen. But even a queen's sympathy will not be enough to save him.

She must kill him for his crime, even in it was one done out of selflessness, a crime of thievery that would've fed his family and helped build them a better life. It's harder on the island for the gift-less, they are usually poorer and have less success.

Not all gift-less islanders are poor and one woman, Valentina Hargrove, is gift-less but has a position on the Black Council. The Hargrove family are the richest gift-less family on the island and will always be a suitable choice for the Black Council. 

It is a small attempt to appeal the fraction of gift-less islanders, though her family undoubtedly paid for her seat, which seems to be the tradition for the Hargrove family and their council seats. It doesn't hurt that it makes the Black Council seem tolerant and not completely biased in favour of the gifted which of course it is and always will be.

Nonetheless, there has always been one rich gift-less member on the Black Council. Nine people are on the Black Council and at least five positions are always taken up by rich, gifted islanders who share the same gift as the current queen. 

Queen Halia was the last queen and she was war gifted so her Black Council consisted primarily of warriors. Pele Murtra is the head of the Black Council as she was Halia's foster sister growing up and her fellow warrior whom she trusted. 

The other current Black Council members are: Pele's husband Malakai Murtra, who took his wife's name in marriage as is the fashion on the island where women are dominant, Evangeline Antere, James Antere, Dianna Beaulin, Rebekah Vatros, Vivianne Westwood, Cressida Lermont and Valentina Hargrove. Six war gifted. One elemental. One oracle. One gift-less. Seven women. Two men. 

No shadows. No poisoners. Nobody trusted either one of those groups unless they had the same gift themselves and even then there is always a sense of mistrust. Poisoners use to have the Black Council completely in their control back in the poisoner queen dynasty but when Queen Halia won, the island couldn't wait to get rid of the poisoners and the queen crowned felt the same. 

The shadows have had no real interest in the Black Council as they have not had a queen for eons and in return the head of the black council leaves Umbra to their own devices usually, hence the Radurons ruling Umbra for years like it's in own mini queendom.

But since Arwen has been born, Pele and the rest of the Black Council have wanted Umbra to be more under their jurisdiction. That obviously hasn't been sitting well with Cierra and the other shadow nobles. And Cierra has continued to rule as her ancestors have. Arwen knows Pele will not be happy about this execution, the fact that Cierra oversaw it all and didn't run it by her. It's a constant power battle between those two.

Arwen only knows that Cierra will never relinquish her control over the shadow city but Pele will never give up. It is difficult though as Umbra is strong, big and powerful as they have adapted over the years to become their own queendom. And of course people have forgotten what the shadow gift is truly like. People would not be keen to face it.

Arwen also knows that when she is crowned, Cierra will force her to appoint her as the Head of the Black Council so she can corrupt and control the island like the tyrant she is. Cierra will try to control her and run the island from the shadows of Arwen's crown. She will be queen in name only, Cierra will take everything else, the island won't truly be hers. 

Scowling at Cierra, she goes back to listening to her surroundings. 

"Shadow execution," Cierra shouts before stepping back, a tight smile on her cruel face and the crowd roar in return. Eager to see their queen's might and the promise of what they will one day have over the island. Power.

But Cierra's words only make Arwen take
a step back in horror as she shakes her head, forgetting how she is supposed to act.

"No Cierra, that is a horrible death," she whispers and Cierra's smile drops instantly to a scowl before she grabs Arwen firmly by the wrists, her sharp nails digging into to her, drawing small drops of blood and leans close to her ear so that Arwen can feel her breath, 

"You will do it or I shall take pleasure in carving out his eyeballs and then cutting his body and make his insides his outsides, all while he is alive and you are watching," she spits venomously, "so do it Arwen or leave him to my hands, where he will surely receive a fate worse than death." 

Arwen shoots Cierra a stone cold glare, her eyes swimming with sadness and anger. She will do as Cierra says but she will do it in her own way.

She steps forward to the man, ignoring the egging on from the crowd and their bloodthirsty chants as she lifts his chin up with her hand gently, 

"What is your name?" She asks him softly, her voice smooth, calm and gentle like a mother comforting a child. 

She can practically feel Cierra's glower of disapproval burning into her back but she should at least know his name before she puts him to death. 

Shaking, he manages to raise his head, his chin wobbling slightly, showcasing his obvious heartbreaking fear, 

"Jack Millner," he says, "please your majesty, have mercy, I only stole the jewels to help my family. My family moved to Umbra decades ago. We have been starving for weeks and we have nothing. The crops have been failing, my family's old gift is gone because it's been so long since a naturalist queen sat on the throne. Please I didn't mean to kill the guards they just came at me and I snapped. Please, I don't want to die."  His voice breaks slightly on the last part as the full realisation settles on him. He knows he is going to die, there is no avoiding it.

Arwen smiles kindly, not allowing any negative  emotion to come into her face as she kisses him in each cheek which makes the crowd start shouting angrily at her but she ignores them before whispering, 

"Trust me," she pauses and her next words are so self assured, "you will feel no pain." 

Her words and gifts have an effect as he relaxes, her power manipulating his senses into doing so. He trusts her and then nods slowly, a slight look of comfort in his eyes as he lowers his head like an obedient puppy. 

Quickly, the shadows seep from Arwen's palms like swirls of ink, with Arwen making his feelings numb so that he would not feel any pain and then the black obscure mist slowly creeps through his ears, mouths and eyes and she can feel the darkness crawl up his veins and then then they slowly reach his heart and Arwen feels his heartbeat flutter, feels it growing weaker and more faint until it stops completely and Arwen sees his eyes turn from a shadow black to pure white. His body shakes for a moment as an after effect of the shadows and then he stills and falls to the floor. Dead. It is quick and normally it would be horribly painful but not for him, she is a shadow queen and she made it so he felt no pain.

The crowd will not suspect what she did to his pain. Shadows have rarely been able to manipulate the sense into lessening or heightening pain for decades. Cierra and Ebony can do it to a degree. Arwen can do it with ease.

She feels tears starting to form again at the remorse of what she has just done but she wills them not to fall. She instead makes her own pain lessen, just for enough time so she can convince them that she is the strong queen of shadow and bone. That she can kill.

She faces them all, a carefully crafted mask of complete ice and stone forming on her face. They cheer for her now. Pleased at her gift at her strength. They have no idea who she truly is but she smiles for them anyway and they celebrate her.

But inside she curses Cierra, she curses the shadows and she curses the fact that she is queen.  But most of all she curses the Goddess and the island. For who would ever want to be queen?